


Sinquefoil

by habenaria_radiata



Series: Dream Eater [1]
Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor, Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Dream Sex, Hotsuweek 2018, Improbably Arousing Kisses, M/M, Our Incubi Are Different, Pining, incubus au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 02:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habenaria_radiata/pseuds/habenaria_radiata
Summary: Abel, widely considered to be the best, most handsome incubus by Abel, is on the prowl for a meal when he stumbles upon a young man who appears to be having an absolutely intriguing dream.He decides to eat it.





	Sinquefoil

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HIBIKI! WELCOME TO HOTSUWEEK DAY 3! I've had this fic sitting on the back burner for months, and now here it is, in all its weird glory. Consider it a birthday present from me (and Abel) to Hibiki.
> 
> I hope that you like it!

* * *

 

  
    There are only so many ways for the average human to experience hunger. It usually starts low: a rumble of the gut; an uncomfortable sense of emptiness; occasional growls when it gets particularly out of hand. For some, it's accompanied by light-headedness. Or anger. Or both at the same time. For how unpleasant they often are, however, the symptoms are limited -- manageable, generally.  
  
    But hunger manifests itself in rather different ways when you subsist on something other than food.  
  
    For Abel, hunger began as an itch of the tongue. It would needle up at the back and radiate forward, buzzing along the tip until it felt cold against his teeth. Then his fingertips would do the same, a numbness just beneath his nails that would soon follow the length of his arms. It was a dry mouth and a dryer throat. For Abel, his hunger was _thirst_ , full-bodied and agonizing and nigh unquenchable. But only if he left it too long.  
  
    As one might imagine, Abel didn't feel inclined to leave it often. Hunger wasn't merely physically debilitating; it was also a drain on his magic, and he simply could not abide that. There were others like him who were perfectly comfortable being mediocre. They would emerge from their dens just long enough to feed, consume just enough to survive. And they would slip back inside until the next hunger pangs rattled their bodies. It was...an existence, certainly. But it wasn't the sort of existence someone like Abel could be content with. Mediocrity had never suited him.  
  
    He was a glutton for magic. He wasn't satisfied until he had so much it spilled out of him. He liked feeling it pulse through every inch of his body, from the sharp ends of his horns down to the tips of his toes. Greedy it may have been, but Abel wasn't especially fussed about his growing docket of sins. Besides, he liked to eat.  
  
    This insatiable appetite for magic meant that he was forced to go hunting every night, but truthfully, Abel didn't mind that either. Humans were more interesting at night. By day, he would curl up and sleep so that by sunset, he was primed and raring to go stalking through the streets of Tokyo.  
  
    He never understood why his fellow incubi were so lazy. Tokyo was a smorgasbord. His favorite method was to slip through apartment complexes and help himself to the feast. Some of his peers liked to act as if hunting was such a chore, but at the crux of it, it was little more than a numbers game. Find enough people all sleeping at the same time, and you were bound to find _something_ to eat.  
  
    That said, it wasn't entirely truthful that Abel brooked no sympathy at all for those who only fed when it was strictly necessary. The primary problem was simple: most people's dreams were extremely fucking boring.  
  
    It wasn't as if he had never experienced that himself. He'd been disappointed more than once, standing in a complex lobby surrounded by dull grey flowers as far as the eye could see, like the world's shittiest black velvet painting. But that happened. It was to be expected. Most people went home from their mundane lives and went to sleep to have their mundane dreams, over and over again until they died. Sure, it was a pain in the ass sometimes, but you simply had to be persistent and dig a little. It was worth it to make the effort for a good dream to eat. Hell, even a bad dream was better, because at least then it tasted like something.  
  
    The mundane dreams really were just the fucking worst. They didn't look appetizing because they weren't. Eating one was like trying to chew through a textbook. Their grey petals were thin and limp, and they dissolved between your teeth like wet newspaper. Repulsive. The only reason to settle for a grey one was if you were running on fumes and you had to, in which case, Abel rather thought you deserved it. Especially since dreams could be changed.  
  
    Typically, it wasn't worth it to change one. A small adjustment might be reasonable. Just a dash, to season one to taste. But to change a dream wholesale generally required about as much magic as the feeding would restore to begin with. Totally pointless. What you wanted was a good one. A happy dream. One that didn't need to be changed to taste delicious, and the best ones tended to swell with more magic. They'd keep you fuller for longer, give you more bang for your buck. So to speak.  
  
    The best ones were called sinflowers, and to taste one was worth every single second of heartache it took to find.  
  
    Abel hadn't resorted to eating a grey flower in years, but that hardly meant he fed exclusively on sinflowers. They were scarce for a reason. Naturally bloomed ones were vanishingly rare, and only in exceptional circumstances could one be cultivated.  
  
    For Abel, every night was a hunt for a sinflower, and almost every night, he came up short. But those nights he didn't? Utterly beyond compare.  
  
    One particular night found him in a new complex he hadn't spent much time scoping out until then. Tokyo was populous enough that there was something new to be found around every corner, and the lack of space made things extremely convenient for him. Honestly, Abel wasn't even sure his method really merited being called 'hunting'. It was more like hitting up your local convenience store and milling around the aisles until you found something your 3AM munchies deemed acceptable.  
  
    'Acceptable' was about all he had braced himself to find. His magic has depleted a little more than he'd have liked it to, so he was content to just find something pleasant. But apparently he picked well tonight. The instant he closed his eyes to sift through the flowers, a bright, shimmering blue arrested his attention from well above his head, five floors up.  
  
    Blue. He liked blue flowers. Some colors were ambiguous, which was dangerous when that was all you had on which to judge a meal. Everyone had their own associations with certain hues; something like orange could mean anything from a delicious sex dream to a bitter nightmare that tasted like traffic cones. Blue was a blessed exception -- it was near universally good. Everyone liked _some_ type of blue. Sure, very rarely could it stand for depressing shit, but he had yet to encounter a flower like that that blossomed from a sad dream. Those were usually indicated by an even more aggressive shade of grey.  
  
    Abel went for it. It was like a beacon in a sea of grey and a few other dull shades of color, a siren call in the dark. He slid inside the tiny apartment and opened his eyes again, just inside the door. It was an incredibly average, sparsely decorated studio, a kitchen directly to the right of him, and the way to the bathroom to his left. Abel stepped into the threshold and tilted his head down to spy the sinflower lighting up the dark room, blooming right from the center of a young man's forehead. He was curled up on his side, dozing hard, his legs bent at the knee and his arms splayed around his face as if he were protecting the fragile blossom swaying beneath his curly fringe of black hair.  
  
    He could deal with a side sleeper. Better than stomach sleepers. Stomach sleepers were the goddamned worst.  
  
    Abel didn't dive in immediately, however. He crouched down before the bed, admiring the man's sleeping face. His brows were slack, his face smooth and peaceful in sleep. He must have been having an awfully good dream for his flower to glow like that. Abel stood up again, a pop of joints momentarily breaking the heavy silence draped over them, and he approached the desk pushed against the back wall of the room. It was the only furniture other than his bed, a TV propped up on one half of it and a chair pushed under the other.  
  
    There was a coat draped over the back of the chair, black and slightly shiny looking beneath the light pulsing from the sinflower. Curious, Abel lifted it into his hands and inspected it. There were a few gold badges glinting on the left breast. Pretty snappy looking. It seemed like it would fall to about his thighs if he were wearing it. Abel laid it back where it was and lifted his jaw, spotting a wallet and an ID badge with the kid's face on it. He picked up the badge to look it over. Apparently, his name was Hibiki, and he worked for some organization called JP's.  
  
    Interesting. His jacket looked rather official for him to be set up in such a cramped little studio. Maybe his boss was just cheap. Or Hibiki was. Regardless, Abel stepped away from the desk and threw himself onto the bed with an eager bounce, encasing Hibiki's skinny body with both his legs. That flower looked fucking divine, and he wanted it in his mouth.  
  
    Hibiki didn't move at all. He was still breathing lightly, the sharp bone of his hip brushing against one of Abel's thighs. Carefully, he curled his fingers around Hibiki's shoulder. Less carefully, Abel pushed him onto his back and plopped down over his abdomen. Hibiki's head lolled gently to the side, and Abel was presented with the open petals of his sinflower like a goddamned buffet.  
  
    It was a type of flower he'd never seen before. It was big and so terribly inviting, its petals short and shaped like hearts. There were five of them, which was a little disappointing, since for Abel's purposes, it really meant four. Not everyone liked to eat the petals, and doing so was risky. Eating the entire flower spelled the end of the dream, which carried a high chance of waking the person up. But no risk, no reward, right? The petals were his favorite part.  
  
    An insatiable sense of intrigue welled up inside him, only a fraction more forgiving than his hunger. Abel pushed his knees flush to the bed and dipped forward, cradling Hibiki's pretty face in his hands and holding him steady. His pale skin took on an almost porcelain quality beneath the flower's blue glow. He watched the petals quiver, lift higher from Hibiki's skin as if to entice him.  
  
    Abel spread his lips and slid his tongue directly into the flower's fragile center. Sweetness flooded the inside of his mouth. Not the heaviness of sugar itself, but a more delicate taste that melted over his tongue. Fuck, it was good. Abel drew back from him and swallowed, swiping a shaking thumb over his bottom lip. He could already feel the heat seeping into the tips of his fingers and toes. He wished there were some way to actually tell when he was going to strike gold on any given day, because he'd have liked to have been more mentally prepared to savor it properly.  
  
    Oh well. Abel dipped his tongue inside the center a second time, pushing past the thick shafts of stamen and swallowing another mouthful of nectar. He couldn't remember the last time he tasted anything so unequivocally sweet. It fascinated him. Even other sinflowers he'd eaten had faint undercurrents of other tastes, but he couldn't detect anything else from this one. Not the slightly sour aftertaste of discomfort or dread, or bitter sadness, or cold fear, or even the sharp tang of excitement. This tasted like pure, distilled joy. It felt like drinking sunlight.  
  
    Abel _had_ to know. No one had dreams that good.  
  
    Each of his palms lifted Hibiki's jaw higher, and he closed his eyes and surrendered himself to Hibiki's dream. The initial drop was always at least a little dizzying, but Abel was so accustomed to it that his body reoriented itself in only seconds. It required a touch of adjustment, however. He worked his limbs more smoothly inside Hibiki's own, then relaxed by degrees. It was a tiny bit snug, but Abel had had much worse. Hibiki was actually pretty close to his size.  
  
    When Hibiki was permitted to take over once again, he was oblivious to Abel moving with him. At least, if he wasn't, then Hibiki gave no indication that he noticed anything amiss. He was gazing out a window that Abel peered through, endlessly curious to know where they were.  
  
    Nowhere, apparently. He could tell upon first glance that this place was a construct, and an incredibly low effort one too. The floors were bright white hardwood, and the only piece of furniture inside the massive room was a smallish, modern-looking desk with nothing on it. The emptiness didn't necessarily mean anything by itself, but the cityscape outside the floor-to-ceiling windows looked like little more than a poorly rendered game background. The buildings were all rectangles with identical windows, and the various clusters of them repeated themselves intermittently. It was sort of cute, but not exactly what he'd expected when he'd gotten a taste of that delicious flower. It was so...boring.  
  
    But then Hibiki turned his head, and all was made clear. The room was not empty after all. A man and a woman stood near the windows opposite him, speaking so low that Abel could make nothing out. Likely the conversation wasn't especially important to Hibiki. Just the participants.  
  
    Or, well...participant. Hibiki was only looking at one of them. The man was not especially tall, but he carried himself as though he couldn't walk through a doorway without banging his nose against the frame. He was looking at the woman while she spoke, his gaze intent, eyes pale and sharp as a wolf's. All of him was like that, really. Pale or sharp or both. His brows, his shoulders, even his hair falling around his neck. He was wearing a black jacket that looked an awful lot like Hibiki's, but unlike Hibiki's, this one was long enough it furled around his ankles, the sort of gold-trimmed fancy that trumpeted 'I am extremely important' from well across rooms.  
  
    Hibiki was staring at the man too hard for him to get a handle on what the woman looked like besides having dark blue hair, but he could nevertheless tell that both people were very much real. The room was hilariously shoddy, but the level of detail in the sexy man's appearance was suggestive of a face that spent a _lot_ of time being stared at. Hibiki had it bad for the boss man.  
  
    Oh yes. The instant he turned and saw Hibiki standing there, Abel could feel his heart somersault in his chest. As though waiting long enough to be sure he'd unsettled him, the man stared at him, then tilted his head and smiled. "Don't you agree, Hibiki?" he asked.  
  
    Abel's legs almost buckled. God, no wonder Hibiki had it so bad. That was a voice that made him want to move mountains. "I-" Hibiki petered out as quickly as he'd started. "Sorry?" Abel winced and resisted the urge to rub his chest. His heart felt like it was being crushed by a lemon squeezer.  
  
    Pure disappointment passed across that handsome face. Abel was rather entertained by it, in spite of the faint burn along his sternum, but poor Hibiki was mortified. He could feel the heat radiate from both their faces as Hibiki scrambled to placate him. Truth be told, it was a little disconcerting. At first, Abel was afraid that this guy was some dickhead, abusive boss who just happened to also be ludicrously attractive -- but it soon became clear that Hibiki just felt that bad about disappointing him in even the slightest. It was kind of endearing.  
  
    "Were you listening?" he asked, a mild frown tugging at the corners of his pretty mouth.  
  
    "Y- Yes, of course! I just-" Hibiki paused and bit his bottom lip. Abel could feel the boy's teeth sinking into his own skin. Their shoulders dropped as one. "I'm sorry, Yamato. I think I got the gist of it?"  
  
    For several seconds, Yamato did not respond. He slid his hands into his pockets and watched Hibiki as a lion might scrutinize a gazelle it was considering whether or not to eat. Then he chuckled, low and warm, and Abel's stomach bottomed out so hard he thought he might faint. "Oh," Yamato murmured, " _I_ see."  
  
    This particular time, he was as confused as poor Hibiki. "You do?" he asked.  
  
    Hibiki blinked, and Yamato was right beside him, peering down at him over his shoulder. Then he smirked, a slow, poured on quirk of his lips that made Abel feel as if he finally understood what it meant to experience the vapors. "I do," Yamato crooned. He dropped down in the span of a second blink, and Abel felt Hibiki's legs swept out from under him as he was lifted into the air. He grabbed hard at a handful of lavender hair and tried to balance his ass on Yamato's shoulder while he was carried so effortlessly across the bright, empty room.  
  
    Abel's heart smashed into Hibiki's ribs. "Y- Yamato?" Hibiki clutched him harder until Yamato deposited him onto the gleaming surface of the empty desk. No wonder there was nothing else on top of it.  
  
    No wonder that flower was so deliciously blue. Cute little Hibiki of JP's was in for it.  
  
    His hands spread across the smooth desktop. He tilted his head back to see Yamato leaning over him, his own gloved palms flat between Hibiki's hips and his skinny arms. "Ya-" The name dried up on his tongue as Yamato pushed forward and pressed his mouth right to Hibiki's forehead.  
  
    Abel had never felt anything like it. Ecstasy radiated out from where Yamato's lips touched him, flooding down his face and leaving a cascade of tingling skin in its wake. It buzzed with such intensity his face almost felt numb. And then it kept going, pouring into his stomach and twisting through his insides so hard that Hibiki arched up off the desk almost entirely.  
  
    He fancied that that was what it must be like to be struck by lightning if, rather than killing you, lightning gave you an absolutely raging boner. Abel threw his head back and gasped. Heat pulsed between his thighs. His spine drew yet tighter, pulled into such a taut arc that his chest came close to brushing against the front of Yamato's flawlessly starched oxford.  
  
    Every single molecule of his body blazed with want. Nothing in his life had ever filled him with such intense lust, and it was a fucking forehead kiss. God damn, Hibiki was thirsty to an almost lethal degree, and Abel couldn't even make fun of him for it, because he felt it too. Every second Yamato spent not fucking him hard enough to shatter the desk was another that saw him more and more convinced that he would literally expire without him and his important CEO dick buried in his ass up to the hilt.  
  
    His spine felt like a goddamned bowstring. He felt as if he would snap at the slightest tug. He writhed beneath Yamato's bigger body, pushing up harder and panting beneath him with all the overwhelming need of a man who had spent six weeks in the desert, and Yamato's mouth offered the first bit of moisture he'd seen for four of them.  
  
    He made a strangled noise in Hibiki's voice and thrust up higher off the desk, shoved his head to the side, and pressed a hungry kiss to Yamato's electrifying lips. The man had shifted some time without his noticing. His gloved hand spread across Hibiki's chest and pressed down over his heart where it smashed up to meet him. It was fucking shameful how desperately he craved Yamato's exquisite touch, but he was afforded neither the brain cells nor the blood they'd need to process it.  
  
    Yamato seemed to like him that way. Or at least, this dreamy doppelganger did. Abel moaned so hard it practically echoed along the inside of Yamato's sinfully hot mouth, and he yielded to the sensation of his tongue gliding past his lips. His own tongue flooded with the taste of pomegranates.  
  
    What the fuck, Hibiki. Distantly, Abel hoped this was pure dream nonsense and not something Hibiki actually hoped for or thought was accurate. It was romantic to think that Yamato might taste like literal forbidden fruit, but his mouth would almost certainly just taste like a mouth. Hibiki needed to stop reading romance novels and hopefully start reading Dipping Your Pen in the Company Ink: How to Bang Your Boss and Avoid a Lawsuit in 4 Easy Steps. It'd probably serve him better.  
  
    But then something savory lit up the inside of his real mouth, and Abel's eyes snapped open. The bright white interior of the fake office disappeared, replaced by the inside of Hibiki's near equally empty apartment. Abel jerked up and sat back on his lap, his heart beating an aggressive rhythm against his ribs. Hibiki was still asleep beneath him, his face slack, but his body much hotter than when Abel had started. He could feel the man's erection digging into his ass.  
  
    Abel ignored it and swallowed the nectar still coating the inside of his mouth. His red eyes flickered downward. Hibiki's sinflower had changed. The petals still burned a vivid blue in the dark, but the very insides, the blurred edges around the stamen, had turned a deep, sultry magenta.  
  
    Again he dipped down, but this time, Abel closed his lips around the flesh of a petal and sucked it into his mouth, tearing it at the root and biting into it. Thick, syrupy nectar oozed from the broken skin. It was still sweet like before, but now it had a deep, pronounced note of something achingly decadent, like raspberry currant.  
  
    It was fucking delicious. He had scarcely dared to believe it could even improve upon what was already there. Abel swallowed the remnant of the petal and tore into another one, both his hands sinking into Hibiki's wild hair and clutching at the roots. Magic sparked from his lips all the way down to his fingertips. If someone were to touch him, no doubt his skin would pop and sizzle beneath their hands. Abel shivered and pulled off a third one, sliding his tongue along the waxy skin that reminded him of biting into an apple.  
  
    He let his molars sink over it slowly, spurting more delicious nectar over his tongue and down along his throat. He'd never received so much magic from one flower before. Abel left the fourth one in tact and shoved his hands back down to grab Hibiki's flushed cheeks. If he timed it just right, there was a distinct possibility that the last bite would be _orgasmic_. Possibly literally.  
  
    Feeling giddy, Abel dove headfirst back into his dream, where he felt Yamato's face beneath Hibiki's hands. Apparently the blue-haired woman had disappeared, probably mercifully, and Yamato was plundering his mouth with lazy abandon. His arms were still thrust against Hibiki's ribs, keeping him pinned to the desk as he loomed over him and made him see stars with his oral talents alone.  
  
    It was nice, and all. Making out might be good enough for Hibiki, whose boner was as enthusiastic inside of his dream as it was outside it, but it wasn't quite enough to suit Abel's taste. If he wanted a real sinflower, he would have to take matters into his own hands. He let the magic burning the tips of his fingers seep into Hibiki's dream. Honestly, Hibiki seemed like he could use a bit of sexual charity in his life, and besides, Abel felt he rather owed it to him. He had fucking gorged on magic, and he still had more to take from him.  
  
    A raw cry erupted from Hibiki's throat as hot, bare skin pushed flush against his lap. Adorably, he was too embarrassed to even try and look to see what Yamato was packing. Hibiki hid his face in the man's cheek, that long, pretty hair brushing against his jaw as another sultry laugh plumed from Yamato's mouth. God, he was so hot. If this dream was merely an exaggeration of all Yamato's finer qualities, Abel was going to be intensely disappointed.  
  
    A shift of their bodies sent pure bliss scorching his insides, and Abel promptly lost himself in the feeling. Again, Abel threw his head back as Hibiki bucked and thrashed, moaning desperately for Yamato's benefit. A vague sort of heat blistered between his hips and slid up his back, but Abel wasn't so far gone he couldn't be dismayed by it. Where the fuck was the cock he'd just angled for?  
  
    Oh. God. Hibiki was a virgin. Abel snorted to himself and sighed, closing his eyes. Of course he wouldn't know what taking a dick felt like to accurately dream about it. He was really going to have to do something about this kid and his abysmal sex life. Even with the taste of his transcendentally delicious sinflower still lingering in his mouth, it still didn't keep Abel from being depressed about it. Maybe Hibiki really did need a sex guide. Maybe Abel could leave him one the next time he paid him a visit.  
  
    For now, he blotted out his own less than flattering thoughts about Hibiki and his lack of game and let himself enjoy the poor thing's first proper sex dream. It still felt good, even if the lack of detail was hard to get past. Maybe he was just salty he wouldn't get to see what Yamato's dick actually looked like.  
  
    At least he still had Hibiki. Evidently, the kid had more than enough experience handling his own that the feeling of Hibiki's erection pushed against the soft material of Yamato's oxford was really nice. Abel shivered hard, his fingers tightening in all that silky lavender hair as he was railed into the surface of the desk. That was the nice thing about dream sex. No bruises the next morning.  
  
    Beneath him, Hibiki arched. Abel cracked one eye open as Hibiki's hips rolled beneath him. This was flirting with danger, but Abel couldn't bear to let that kind of nirvana go untasted. Soothingly, he swept both thumbs along Hibiki's cheeks, and he caught more of the nectar dripping from the torn petals before it could dapple across Hibiki's forehead.  
  
    He was so into it. A job well done, Abel felt. He let the dream encase him once again, his arms tight around Yamato's powerful shoulders and his legs spread wide around his hips. Maybe there was something to a virgin's ideal. Pleasure was all he felt, in his curled toes, in his fingers biting into the slick material of Yamato's jacket, in his face and the shell of his ear where Yamato's hair brushed against him. The world was an empty construct and he and Yamato were the only two who mattered right then.  
  
    Abel was rather infatuated. Hibiki really did have it so bad that it charmed the fuck out of him.  
  
    He wanted him to have this for real. For Hibiki's hot boss to nail him on a desk and kiss his neck just like this. He wanted this surreal sort of pleasure to be concrete. But for now it was perfect, and it felt like a crime to ask for more.  
  
    Yamato's hips rolled into him one last time, and Hibiki thrust up from the bed, crying out and closing his fingers over Abel's shoulders. He opened his mouth and ripped the fourth petal away, and the last bite tasted full and deep and red. It tasted like sin.  
  
    Abel swallowed finally, sitting back, his shaking hand closed over his mouth. Hibiki went slack beneath him, and the last, sad little petal curled beneath his hair turned a soft blue, its light growing dimmer. The insides of Abel's thighs were wet and sticky now, but he didn't mind it.  
  
    He bent down and pressed a short kiss to Hibiki's cheek as Abel lifted his hips off his lap where a dark stain was spreading across the front of his pajama bottoms. Normally Abel didn't give a fuck about his 'meals', but Hibiki had just showed him one hell of a good time. It was the least he could do to clean him up and get him tucked back into bed as if nothing were amiss.  
  
    And now, he had a new meal to seek out.  
  
    He was _definitely_ going to have to visit the boss man.


End file.
